Zich faced Count Steelwall. Although the Count’s face was usually sour when he talked to Zich, his expression was even worse than usual. His glaring eyes were moments away from spewing out intense bloodlust and his twitching mouth looked like it was about to pour out all kinds of harsh insults. The muscles in his right arm swelled as if he was going to grab his sword and destroy everything in his path. Anybody would’ve struggled to utter even a word to the Count. Yet, Zich didn’t even pay the slightest heed to the Count’s mood and said, “Seriously! Tell me where you met these new friends! Friends so close that you gave up a part of your house to them. Didn’t you ever hear that you have to carefully discern the friends you make?”

“…If you are going to make provocations, get out. I’m not in the mood to play word games with you.” The way the Count immediately lowered his voice displayed the urgency of the trouble he was in. If Zich pushed any more, he might really have a sword aiming for his head. Although Zich wasn’t afraid of that, he didn’t plan on just getting into fights rashly without thinking.

‘It’s understandable. I’m sure he knows how serious the situation is.’ The nonsensical rumors circulating...